


Moments

by kixxo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kixxo/pseuds/kixxo
Summary: Just a amall angst fic for people who want to watch Conner suffer :)





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBagelQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBagelQueen/gifts).



> first fic that's totally finished. won't be taking it down this time lol. let me know if u want more i guess haha~xxo

Conner sat, shoulders tensed, head in his hands. He had been sitting in this hospital chair for over 12 hours. If his ass could feel, it would probably be numb. He hadn’t even changed clothes. He was still in his Cyberlife uniform, but his jacket and tie had been removed and his sleeves rolled up. His hair had lost its clean, neat look and instead like he had run his and one too many times through it. Which he had, of course. He lifted his head from his hands, dragging them along his face as he did. With a huff, he slumped into the back of thee chair.

“12 hours,” Conner thought with a scoff, “Human doctors take far too long.” As frustrated as he was now, Conner understood why Hank requested a human surgeon. He understood better than anybody. Conner’s eyes drifted to the golden band wrapped around his left ring finger. His thumb and fore finger spun it. He was so in need of a distraction. He had already gone through all the hospital-provided magazines and there was no television. It was times like this he regretted not letting Hank install the Projector Program, the new Cyberlife android feature. They created contacts for androids that could display television. Conner smiled slightly, remembering the exchange.

_“It’s just so impractical! When would you ever use it?” Conner turned to Hank, who was forcing himself to drink the kale smoothie Conner had made him that morning._

_“Every time we have to wait somewhere, when the Captain isn’t working, At lunch, to name a few.” Hank listed. Conner shook his head, setting the case file he had in hand onto Hank’s desk. “How about you focus on solving this murder? After the criminal is behind bars, we can discuss your need for entertainment in the 10 minutes it takes for the deli guy to take your order.” Hank snatched the file and opened it._

_“When’d you become such a smart ass?” Hank grumbled. “I learn from the best.” Conner leaned down and kissed his husband’s cheek before returning to his desk._

 

How could that have only been two days ago? It seemed so surreal. Conner was never one to be in disbelief. Everything had a rational explanation to it, nothing was ever a mystery to him. And yet, the fact that one moment, a person could be laying in bed with the person they love, holding their hand or be teasing them at work, and then just moments later…having to plug a bullet wound and call nine-one-one with blood covered hands.

_It had been a long shift down at the station. They had been walking home from grabbing a burger at Hank’s new favorite place. He seemed to alternate his places depending on what he’s in the mood for. Conner didn’t get it but was content to go wherever made Hank happiest._

_“_ All _I’m saying is that, reinstating the Soviet Union_ could _bring back Disco. And you have no robo evidence to prove it can’t.” Hank said a little too loud. Conner had gotten quite used to these ramblings. His research had told him it was just something millennial did, so he entertained it. “And all_ I’m _saying is, did Disco ever truly die? Because I can guarantee if you played “Staying Alive” in a nightclub, every human would be on that floor busting a move.” Conner argued. Hank erupted in laughter which led to Conner into a fit of giggles._

_Yelling and gunshots brought them out of their bubble of laughs. They turned their attention towards the convenience store on the other side of the street. Blood covered the windows and the clerk was slumped against the front of the counter. A man in black sprinted through the doors and down the street._

_“I’ll apprehend him! You call an ambulance and assist the clerk!” Conner ordered as he began to chase the criminal. The man took a sharp turn through the ally not far from the store. Conner followed, seeing the man attempt to climb the eight-foot chain-link fence. Conner took  his gun from his holster and pointed it at the man’s back. “Detroit Police! Get on the ground or I will be force to fire!” Conner yelled. The man’s shoulders dropped with defeat. He slowly climbed down and got onto his knees, placing his hands behind his head._

_Conner made his way over to him and began patting him down. Wait. Wait. There was no gun. Conner stood up. Where was it? Did he drop it before he ran? Why would he have done that? Unless… there was a second-_

**_BANG!_ **

_Conner’s heart sank. His hands shook. He didn’t know what to do. He decided this criminal wasn’t nearly as important as Hank and dashed back towards the store. There he saw another man in black running the opposite direction. Conner pulled out his gun and aimed for head. Once the shot was fired, he knew he’d be in shit for it. An Android cop killing a human. He didn’t care. He’d kill a thousand humans for Hank._

_As Conner swung into the blood covered convenience store, he felt what Hank describes as ‘sick’. Hank stayed still on the floor. Blood poured from his chest. His tan cheeks were pale. He looked asleep…_

_Conner pressed a hand to his bullet wound and pushed. Hands still trembling, he picked up Hank’s walkie talkie. Blue water streamed down Conner’s cheeks. He took a shaky breath before pressing the button on the walkie talkie. “T-This is Detective…Detective Conner Anderson…There’s been a shoot out on 28 th and Maine. Civilian and Officer down. I repeat, Civilian and Officer down!” Conner began to sob. He dropped the walkie and hugged Hank’s body close to his, feeling him grow colder. Heavier. _

“Mr. Anderson?” a voice broke through Conner’s thoughts and pulled him back to reality. Thankfully too because tears had begun to sting around the edge of his eyes. A hard, painful lump grew in his throat.

“Yes, that’s me.” Conner cleared his throat as he stood up. The doctor wasn’t much taller than Conner, but his broad shoulders made him seem so much larger. This scared Conner somewhat. But then again, everything scared Conner right now, “Hank is stable and conscious now. He’s been requesting you since he opened his eyes.” The doctor’s voice was heavy and tired. The words he spoke, however, washed over Conner like he had just wrapped himself in a blanket that had just been in the dryer.

Conner gave a breathless laugh. He nodded and silently thanked the man. He was too afraid to speak, in fear sobs may come out instead. He quickly speed walked to Hank’s room. But Conner decided that was far too slow and began sprinting down the corridors.

Running a little too fast, he had almost passed Hank’s room but caught himself on the doorframe. He wobbled on overused legs towards the bed that held his husband. He looked at him, hooked up to 20 different machines. His ‘heart’ clenched. Hank looked so small, so fragile. He looked like he wasn’t himself. Hank’s eyes fluttered open, falling onto the breathless, wobbly, disheveled mess that was his husband.

“Little excited there, Tiger?” Hanks voice came out raw and scratchy. Quiet and not like him. Conner was torn between wanting to cry and wanting to smile and give a response. So he simply split the difference. He grabbed the sides of Hank’s face gently yet still with urgency and kissed him. Hank used what strength he could to return it. The kiss was weak and simple but to the two of them it was like having a million conversations at once. Like they were touching each other everywhere at once without ever moving. Everything was like that between them.

Warm liquid touched Conner’s cheeks and for a second, he thought he was crying. When he opened his eyes and (very reluctantly) removed his lips from Hank’s, realized the tears were his husband’s.

“Why’re _you_ crying?” Conner chuckled. “Because I didn’t think I’d get to see your ugly mug ever again.” Hank’s voice trembled and broke as he spoke. Conner smiled and rested his forehead onto Hank’s. He never wanted to leave this position. Neither did hank. 

 

 

And, as Lady Luck leaned her ugly head down, with a sneer she whispered, "Careful what you wish for."

Hanks breathing had suddenly become splotchy and choked. His hands squeezed Conner's face as if it would help the air into his lungs. His eyes suddenly half lidded and bloodshot. His trembling, gasping breaths sung to the sudden rapid beeping of the Holter Monitor. Conner was shell shocked. He didn't understand what was happening. Nurses and the large doctor from before had swept through the door in a sea of teal-colored scrubs. A ginger nurse grabbed Conner's arms and pulled him from Hank. Hanks hands were like bear traps, refusing to let his husband go.

Tears began to fall once more. How had his fluid compartments not run out yet? He hadn't even been able to read Hank's vitals before being pushed out. "W-what's happening? What's going on? Is he okay?!" Conner spoke quickly before his voice fell to pieces. 

"I don't know, sir, I'm sorry." She said, rubbing his triceps in a calming gesture. It didn't help. It still felt like his heart was stabbing his stomach. The nurse let go of him, brushing her fiery red hair off of her freckled cheeks. She turned her green eyes towards the floor and stepped out of his way. Conner rushed over to the window that looked into Hank's room. His hands felt cold and clammy against the Plexiglas. Sounds seemed to fade until all he could focus on was the faint "Clear!" before the doctor slammed the defibrillator onto Hank's chest.

Conner gasped softly as Hank's large body convulsed with every shock. They repeated it twenty or so times before moving to manual resuscitation. Conner's lips trembled. he felt so numb.  The doctor removed his hands from his husband's chest and shook his head. He looked at his watch and the nurse beside him wrote something down. "Time of death," The doctor's gruff voice echoed, "7:34 PM." Conner placed a hand over his mouth. He place the other on the window sill. His knees shook and violent sobs erupted from Conner's small figure.

The doctor had come out, Conner was sure because he heard him say something. "An aortic dissection," He heard "There was nothing we could do." he must have decided at that point to leave Conner be. Conner had both hands over his face now. He rocked back and forth in attempt to wake himself from this Hell-sent nightmare. Hank wasn't dead. He repeated this over and over until his sobs had finally subsided. He leaned back and wiped the blue fluids from his face. His breathing never steadied. Each breath was like walking on a tightrope, one missed beat and he'd cry again. He moved his body from up off of the ground, using the window sill as a support bar. He looked into the room once more. Hanks broad chest wasn't moving.

Suddenly Conner thought back to all the times he had laid on that same chest. Had felt the warmth it exerted and the calming thumps that had lulled Conner to sleep on so many nights.  Conner wondered if he laid his head on that same chest, at this very moment, what it would feel like. Would he feel the same?  How long before a body went cold? How long before he would lose that familiar heat forever?

He wobbled into the room he had been cuddling Hank in just seconds ago. He analyzed him. For a second, when nothing popped up, he felt a small glimmer of hope. Like the doctor had missed a vital sign of life.

_**HANK ANDERSON: DECEASED** _

The bright red letters displayed across Conner's vision. Conner felt lost. He felt like his doubts of God had been confirmed. What God would allow such a horrifying thing to happen to a person? His numbness returned and he couldn't think. He simply staggered towards Hank, climbed into his bed, and laid on his chest.

Still warm.

After a while, Conner heard footsteps. He lifted his head up and saw the same ginger nurse from before. She turned and closed the room door then closed the blinds. She made her way over to them and sat at the foot of the bed. Conner turned away to lay his head back on Hank's chest. 

"Were you his android?" She asked softly. Conner lifted his hand up for her to see his ring. "Husband. I'm not his property." His voice was hoarse from the near-scream sobs his throat had endured. She nodded. She seemed to be right on the verge of saying something. Conner didn't encourage her. "Do you have any children? Or animals? People you need to take care of?" She finally spoke. Conner thought of Sumo and how he'd probably need to eat soon.

Then Conner remembered how he and Hank had to put him down only 2 months ago. It was hard, and they had both cried very hard. Both still made the mistake of putting food in his bowl, or wondering if he was okay all alone for the night. Conner wondered if he'd do the same with Hank. If he'd get up and make a smoothie like he did every morning, only to have no one to give it to. If he'd inspect evidence and wonder why Hank wasn't yelling at him to stop. 

The thought made Conner want to cry again. He would have to, had he not run out of tear solution. "No," He finally spoke,"We lived alone. It was always just me and him..." the nurse didn't replay. Instead, she stood up and went over to Conner and caressed his blue tinted cheeks. Conner suddenly felt a little better. Her hands were soft and warm, and settled Conner's shaking breaths. 

"If you really have no one else, and your hum-...husband is gone...would you want me to shut you down?" Her voice betrayed her words. Shut him down? What, just because his 'human' was gone, Conner needed to be shut down?! The nurse must have sensed his apprehension because she spoke again. "It's common among Androids. It's just a way to ease their pain. For the time being. We hold your data card, inform your friends and family of the death and your decision to shut down. Then if someone comes and picks it up, they can reboot you at a date you request. Unless you prefer otherwise." Conner thought for a very long time.

He would never have to wake up an an empty bed. Never have to look at the empty desk across from him. Never be forced to do all of their favorite things without Hank. He wouldn't have to be without him...

Conner thought about the other things he'd never be able to do. He'd never feel. Never feel warmth, or the excitement of a new pet, or the butterflies in his stomach when he meets someone new. He'd never see Hank's picture on the wall and remember his crazy rants. Conner would never have his heart fill with sweet sorrow as he looked through their photo albums. He'd never know how Game of Thrones Season 234 ends.

But how could he go on? He'd never be able to love someone the same way he loved Hank. He'd never love an animal as much as Sumo. and he didn't want to be alone forever. But would Hank want this? Want him to never move on? Did it even matter? Sure he had his own cognitive thoughts and feelings just like every other human, but this wasn't finite. He could be rebooted. He could even set a date if he wanted. It was just like a break. A break from reality. It sounded nice.

Conner sat up and nodded his head. The nurse gave a patient smile, stroking his cheek once more before walking over to Conner. She retrieved a clipboard from the table. Conner took it from her hands and looked it over. He methodically began signing, not really caring about what he was doing. Five years. That wasn't too long. He sighed and handed the clipboard back to her. She set it back onto the table before turning back to Conner.

She touched the base of his neck, his peach synthetic skin disappearing. Conner heard a faint 'click' before suddenly feeling very tired. He laid his heavy heavy. He placed his head delicately onto Hank's chest, an action he'd already done a thousand times before. He placed his head right between Hank's pectorals, his  eyes, drifting shut.

 

Still warm...


End file.
